“Are your Guards going to shoot me if I push you in?”

  “Yes. Because I’ll tell them to.”

  With a laugh, he said, “I believe you.”

  30

  Fact finding

  At the end of her duty shift, Rahel took the lift back to security and walked straight through the outer office, past the observation room with its wraparound wall displays, and to the door of Commander Cox’s office. He was reclined in the control chair that operated the sophisticated data system, working through security footage.

  “Commander? May I speak with you?”

  He paused the playback. “Anything I should know about?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “There’s something I need to ask. It’s private.”

  “Ah.” He pushed himself upright and crossed to his desk, pointing at the guest chair as he went.

  One of the things she appreciated about Cox was his disdain for unnecessary speech. He didn’t waste time on what most considered proper social courtesies, a trait often interpreted as ego. Rahel found it restful. With Cox, she never had to worry about saying the right thing.

  Today she said nothing at all, merely placing her pad in front of him.

  He read the short message with no outward reaction and a bright flare of intrigue. “I see,” he said, pushing the pad back. “One moment.”

  She deleted the text while he reached into a drawer, shuffled through its contents, and closed it again.

  “We’re clear. How did you know I can disable the voice recordings in this office?” he inquired.

  “I’d be surprised if you couldn’t. There must be conversations in here that you don’t want recorded.”

  “Rarely.” He crossed his hands atop the desk.

  “The hardest thing I’ve had to learn on this ship is trust in my team,” she said. “As you know.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “I have a passing acquaintance with the issue. Why?”

  “Something happened yesterday that made me wonder. Who is on Captain Serrado’s team?”

  “All of us. This crew is her team.”

  “But it’s not, is it? If Admiral Greve orders any of us to act against her, she has no backup.”

  His eyes narrowed, dark suspicion thickening the air. “What did he order you to do?”

  “I can’t say without compromising the captain’s privacy. Unless you have a passing acquaintance with this issue, too.”

  Suspicion solidified into certainty, but he still took the time to weigh his options. “I can guess,” he said at last. “Did it have to do with questioning her loyalty?”

  She nodded. “It wasn’t the first time for either of them. She expected the questions.”

  “What a—” He bit off the exclamation. “That was an inappropriate use of your skills. You shouldn’t be involved in this.”

  “It was a reprehensible use of my skills,” she corrected. “Which is why I’m asking you. Who is on her team?”

  The anger clouding the office was poisoned by helplessness. “We’re doing everything we can. The fact remains that he’s an admiral and the commander of this battle group. Don’t put yourself in opposition. It won’t work out well for either of you.”

  She stared at him in silence, struggling with her disappointment in an officer she admired. “Then she has no backup.”

  “Sayana—”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Captain Serrado made her choice. Keeping this command came with a price, and she accepted that. I know you hate it, but we can’t pick and choose which orders we obey.” He paused. “Or have you done that already?”

  “If I’d disobeyed his order, would I still be on this ship?” She stood up, her back stiff with discomfort. Until this moment, she’d never had to watch her words with him. “Thank you for your time, Commander. May I be dismissed?”

  His emotions roiled, oil and water mixing yet never blending into a coherent whole. He wanted too many things, all of them incompatible.

  With a sigh, he waved her out.

  The view never grew any less amazing, Rahel thought as she sat on the empty bench. The top of Bridge Hill was the highest location on Deck Zero, giving her the perfect vantage point to see the paths twisting and turning through the landscaped park. As much as she loved flying over this deck in the shuttle, she loved being on it more. An actual park in space was something even her most fantastical childhood stories hadn’t envisioned.

  Only one thing kept it from being perfect. They were traveling through base space, where the vastly higher radiation levels required hullskin protection. The transparent hull was covered, presenting a featureless ceiling in place of the spectacular window to the stars.

  It felt odd to be here without Lhyn. Deck Zero was Lhyn’s favorite place on the ship, giving her the space and visual freedom she needed, and this bench was her favorite spot in the park. Rahel once joked that the ship’s computer had a malfunction because every time she asked for her location, it gave the same answer.

  Lhyn hadn’t come on this patrol, an out-and-back trip with a six-day stay at Tlahana Station. Since her safety could not be guaranteed on a Protectorate space station, she would not be able to leave the ship, and most of their travel time would be in base space when Deck Zero offered no view.

  Rahel always missed her when she stayed behind. Today, worrying about who she could trust, she missed her more than usual.

  She scanned the paths, dotted with off-duty crew members strolling in singles and pairs and groups, and found one man with a familiar purposeful stride. Katsuro Lokomorra looked up, spotted her on the bench, and waved before entering a small copse of trees.

  For several minutes, she followed his progress as he wound through the park. The shrubs he was walking past now, with their bell-shaped orange flowers, smelled like the aromatherapy room back in her Whitesun pleasure house. The low blue flowers planted along the path had no scent but served as both visual contrast and tactile treat: their leaves were coated with soft hairs that begged to be petted. Rahel had learned from the chief of botanics that the plants enjoyed it, lengthening each leaf being petted as if reaching for more.

  In the herb section, the path gave way to intermittent paving stones set in a thick ground cover. Katsuro hopped from stone to stone, carefully avoiding the tiny plants. It wasn’t out of consideration for the herbs, which had a polarizing effect on crew members depending on which form of a gene they carried. Those with the dominant gene stepped happily on the ground cover, delighting in the crisp scent that arose. Katsuro, who had the recessive gene, said it stank like stale urine. He normally avoided this section, but it was the shortest route to her location.

  When he vanished behind the hill, she leaned back and waited. The path stitched back and forth up the opposite side; he wouldn’t be visible again until he was nearly here.

  She sensed him before she could hear his footsteps. He was concerned and determined, an odd combination for what was supposed to be a social occasion.

  He came around the curve and called a greeting before climbing the rest of the way to drop onto the bench. “Got your message,” he said unnecessarily. “Why the change of scenery? I was looking forward to a Neutron Star tonight.”

  “I’m feeling some pressure,” she said, tapping her head. “Too many people in the Blue Rocket.”

  He stroked his forked beard, the beads at the ends clacking together. “Huh. I think this is the first time you’ve lied to me. At least, I hope it is.” A reluctant smile tugged his lips as he saw her surprise. “No, I didn’t suddenly become empathic. Cox called me.”

  Her stomach dropped. Had she miscalculated that badly?

  “You don’t want to go to the Blue Rocket because we could be overheard there. You chose the top of Bridge Hill because you can see anyone approaching before they’re in hearing distance.” With a wave indicating the distant ceiling, he added, “And the security cams can’t pick up voices. It’s a good choice. Hydroponics is good, too, if you need another option.”

  She stared, all of her planned tactics abruptly upended. “Did Cox tell you that?”

  “Didn’t need to.” He rested one arm along the back of the bench, an image of ease at odds with the worry coating his skin. “He thinks you’re about to get yourself in big trouble. I’m hoping I can talk you out of it.”

  “That depends on the trouble,” she said warily.

  “See, the problem is that Cox has a limited view of you. He only sees you on duty, so he thought he could warn you off without giving any real information. I know better.”

  Hope flared through her chest. “What do you know?”

  “I know you’ve got a bone between your teeth and you won’t let go just because your supervisor told you to. You’ll need better reasons. Here’s a reason: Captain Serrado isn’t alone in this. Several of us are doing what we can for her. But she won’t let us do much, and she definitely didn’t want you involved. That’s why Cox tried to warn you off.”

  Rahel scoffed. “I’m already involved. Greve saw to that.”

  “What did he do? Cox didn’t give me details.”

  “I didn’t give him many.” It was such a relief to be able to speak openly to her friend. His emotional signature bore no whiff of deception; he was on Serrado’s side. “Greve called me into his office yesterday afternoon. Captain Serrado was already there.”

  His expression turned to stone. “Fuck a rock. He ordered you to scan her during her check-in? Oh, that—” He clapped both hands against his face and dragged them down. “Fuck! What did you do?”

  “Check-in?” she repeated incredulously. “That’s what he calls it?”

  “This is Fleet. We specialize in innocuous euphemisms.”

  She needed a moment to fight down her anger at the trivialization of what she had witnessed. “That wasn’t a check-in. That was the ritual humiliation of a war hero. He wanted to make her so small that I’d lose my respect for her. She’s not the one I lost respect for.”

  Katsuro’s dimples appeared. “I guess I know what you did, then.”

  “I told him what he didn’t want to hear, and he had to let her go. Katsuro, he wants to destroy her. Why isn’t anyone helping? All Cox would say was that Captain Serrado made her choice. I don’t know what that means.”

  He sighed. “It means that after the Fleet brass found out she was a divine tyree, they wanted to take this command away from her. They would have put her on some third-rate exploration ship where she couldn’t do any damage. But somebody pointed out that if they did that, she’d quit, and then they’d have to explain why their decorated hero was leaving Fleet. Much as some of them hate her, she’s still a golden egg for the public relations and recruitment offices. Not to mention that the Alseans would have made a galactic stink about it. So they let her keep her command, but it came with conditions.”

  “The price,” Rahel said, remembering Cox’s words.

  “A babysitter in command of the battle group, daily check-ins reaffirming her loyalty, weekly security reports on her movements—”

  “You are joking,” she spat. “Cox gives that up?”

  “He has to. Refusing would be disobeying orders all the way from the top. He doesn’t have a choice.”

  “Everyone has a choice.” Cox had been viewing security footage when she entered his office. Had he been compiling a report for Greve then? The thought made her sick to her stomach.

  “That’s not true,” Katsuro said reasonably. “This isn’t the sort of disobedience that gets you a punishment of shoveling shit in waste reclamation. It’s the kind that gets you a demotion. Or a boot straight out of Fleet. Not everyone is willing or able to give up a career they’ve spent a lifetime working for. Some people are supporting families or older parents. There are plenty of reasons why people can’t take a stand that might mean losing everything. And the higher they are, the more they have to lose.”

  “She spent her life working for her career, too! Is that suddenly worthless because Fahla blessed her with a divine tyree bond?”

  “The Fleet brass don’t consider it a blessing.”

  “They need a high-velocity enema,” she snapped.

  To her consternation, Katsuro laughed. “You’ve been hanging around Dr. Wells too long.”

  “It’s not a laughing matter!”

  He sobered. “No, it’s not. It’s just—I heard her voice when you said that.”

  “I suppose I did get that from her,” she admitted. “Do you have a choice?”

  “Up to a point.” He held up a hand, forestalling her hot reply. “It’s not only me. Even if I were ready to throw away any chance at a captaincy, Serrado wouldn’t allow it. She’s keeping me farther on the fringes than anyone else. But I promise you, I’m doing what she’ll let me do.”

  He was telling the truth. And Serrado had already proved that she was the kind of oath holder who would protect her people at any cost.

  “Who’s involved besides you?” she asked.

  “You’re not supposed to know any of this. You’re definitely not supposed to be wading even deeper. Rahel, you wouldn’t just be risking yourself. You’d be risking the entire program. You think the Fleet brass would accept any more Alsean officers if the first one gets caught acting against a battle group commander? That’s why Serrado wanted you kept out of it.”

  Rahel thought back to her hearing, when Captain Serrado had made a very specific change to the wording of her proxy oath. “She knows.”

  “What?”

  “She knows I won’t want to be here if Greve succeeds. Maybe she thought differently when this started, but she knows me better now. And the program isn’t tied to Fleet. It’s tied to her.” She would call Salomen and ask if she could speak with Lancer Tal about it. The political maneuverings were far over her head, but she didn’t think the Lancer would want to place more warriors in a system where people like Greve could abuse the gift of service without repercussions.

  Katsuro studied her, his emotions coalescing into a point of decision. “Do you promise you won’t reveal this to anyone other than the names I give?”

  She held a fist over her heart. “I swear on my honor as a warrior.”

  “That’s a lot of honor,” he said gravely.

  The rush of affection warmed her from the inside out. “Thank Fahla you’re supporting her. I couldn’t bear it if I lost my respect for you, too.”

  “Don’t lose your respect for Cox. He’s on the inside.”

  “He said we can’t pick and choose the orders we obey.”

  “He was trying to keep you safe. He’s the one who suspected Greve might be using illegal spy cams in the captain’s quarters. He and Commander Kenji went shopping in the black market at Tlahana Station and came back with a scanner so she could detect them.”

  Shocked, she slumped back against the bench. Crew quarters were sacrosanct; no security cams were allowed inside. The only other protected places on a ship were the toilets. “She found some?”

  He grimaced. “Yes. But she hasn’t found any since then. I think she scared Greve. He broke the law having those installed. Of course, she can’t prove it was him.”

  “That would be too easy,” she grumbled. Then it hit her. “Cox did that?”

  “Yeah, and he’s scrubbing the security reports of any problematic data. Such as the fact that operations was temporarily missing a tool the captain needed to cause an electrical short.”

  “In the shuttle.” Rahel remembered the flash of light and Captain Serrado’s triumph. “Then Commander Zeppy is in, too.” As chief of operations, he’d have to be in order to make that sabotage look like a maintenance issue. And Commander Kenji was the chief of data systems, so if he was in, he could be taking care of problematic communications.

  “All the senior staff are. Serrado didn’t ask, but they offered. So far, she’s only taken up the offer from me, Cox, Zeppy, and Kenji.”

  And Dr. Wells, Rahel added silently. But if Katsuro didn’t know that, she didn’t think she should share.

  Captain Serrado had more support than she’d realized, but there were too many limitations. She wouldn’t allow her officers to risk their careers, even if they were inclined to put everything on the line. They were all playing a delicate game of balance.

  A life in the shadows had taught Rahel a great deal about these kinds of games. One rule always held: the more delicate the balance, the more likely its eventual failure.

  Greve was pushing hard. Dragging her in was an escalation, and Serrado’s team was restricted by rules.

  What the captain needed was someone who was not afraid to break them.

  31

  The right side

  The next evening was Rahel’s first scheduled treatment since returning to the Phoenix. She waited anxiously in her quarters, unable to remain seated for long, and ran for the door when the familiar emotional signature brushed her senses.

  Dr. Wells was still two doors away. “You’re eager,” she said as she closed the distance. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Just tense.” Rahel stepped aside and watched her walk in. She felt better already. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’d rather relieve your tension first.” Dr. Wells stripped off her jacket and tossed it onto the short leg of the L-shaped couch. “I can’t relax if I know you need treatment.”

  “I don’t need it that badly. I can get you a drink.”

  She scooped up the small pillow from beside her jacket and settled into the corner of the couch. “Lie down.”

  The time had long passed when they concerned themselves with physical boundaries and professional distance. Dr. Wells enjoyed this as much as she did, and Rahel was not one to refuse an order like that. She went down immediately, her feet at one end of the couch and her head on the pillow in Dr. Wells’s lap.

  The first touch of practiced fingers on her scalp loosened every muscle in her body. She couldn’t hold back the appreciative groan.